


peace

by Gasp (orphan_account)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, it's short and there's no rk900 yet because it's not done, no fucking beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 11:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Gasp
Summary: his name is gavin fucking reed and his life's a goddamn mess.--a look into gavin's character, followed by a look into gavin's relationship with rk900.





	peace

**Author's Note:**

> hey uh this fucking sucks
> 
> also rk900 will come in the next chapter so if you're looking for him You Won't Find Him Yet

Gavin’s apartment is okay.

He doesn’t live in the best part of town, but he doesn’t live in the worst part of it either. The apartment he comes home to every day is a little slip of a thing, tucked between concrete. It’s messy. That doesn’t matter. He’s always at the station anyways.

But on Saturday, he doesn’t work overtime and ends up coming back to the hollowed-out bones of his living space. The entire place smells stale. Dust gathers on the books he promised himself he would read a year ago.

Everything’s detached itself from him. Gavin stands up and sits down and walks through the corridor and shouts ‘I’m back’ even though nobody’s there, and he finds a phone he thought he’d lost long ago (it’s a Nokia) and has the faint memory of flappy bird and still doesn’t feel like he’s home. For the first time in years (or at least one) he’s not in this shitty apartment to sleep or slap together another damn cup of coffee before he heads out for work, and he’s losing himself in his stuff already, jesus. Is this 2015? Is this still his emo phase?

He decides to clean up and gets it done in an hour. The apartment goes from distant to absolutely fucking barren.

 

\---

 

You know, he and Hank used to be fucking friends. Not close friends or anything, but they’d hung around the coffee machine and complained about androids and shit, and they’d even gone drinking once, and Gavin was actually fucking thinking about opening up to him. And then Connor arrived.

Because of course. Androids take everything they set their greedy, beady eyes on.

 

\---

 

Does Gavin have a secure job at the DPD? Probably. Does Gavin feel like he has a secure job at the DPD? Absolutely fucking not. 

Gavin sits at his desk and thinks: when is the other shoe going to drop. When is the other shoe going to drop. Every time Fowler calls him up his heart rushes up his throat and threatens to spill out of his mouth. Every time Connor whispers past him, all brown eyes and amicable, he feels an odd chill in his hands. It’s exhausting. He definitely does fucking not have a secure job at the DPD, and he is so goddamn scared.

So he makes up for it by working really damn hard. Gavin isn’t the best detective or the neighbourhood homicide prodigy, but he’s decent. He works overtime even when he doesn’t have to. He _forces_ himself to stare particularly mangled bodies and huge cases dead in the eye even when he feels like sobbing. He lives solely on coffee and instant noodles and the donuts that Chris occasionally brings to the station, like he always has.

And of course, it’s not truly Gavin Reed’s Best until he’s standing up to get more coffee on a particularly late shift and blinks and is suddenly lying in the back in a familiar car.

 

“Hank, is that you, what the fuck.”

“You passed out. I’m driving you back to yours.”

“What-- Jesus fucking christ, I don’t need your help! I can drive my own damn self!”

 

He doesn’t get a reply. Hank dumps him outside the apartment complex and drives off without a word.

Gavin stands at the side of the road and watches his car until it vanishes into god knows where.

 

\---

 

Officer Tina once remarked to Gavin that he was a bit old to still be so emo, and that made Gavin think.

(He knows it was really just because he was listening to MCR, but still.)

Yes, sure, he does cry in the shower sometimes, and he’s no Hank Anderson but he’s attempted suicide once or twice. So what. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke, he went from on-the-streets rock bottom to a homicide detective and he occasionally offers comfort to strangers on the internet who lose their way and end up talking to him on some anonymous chat website. He’s not fourteen and dreaming of death anymore.

But he tosses and turns that sentence in his head. Emo phase. His sadness is muted now, desaturated, more persistent and melancholy and less bone-wracking sobs that make him dig his fingers into the flesh of his arms. Oh well.

Emo? Gavin doesn’t think so. He’s growing out of sadness and into indifference.

 

\---

 

Or maybe he’s growing into anger.

Because of course every time he looks at Hank he feels a scream or a sob swell in his throat and curl in his fists and when he sees the androids in the station he wants to fucking die or he wants them to fucking die and he wants to pour hot coffee all over Fowler and his blood feels like it’s boiling all the damn time all the fucking time he wants to take out his gun and shoot the androids in the goddamn streets and he’s probably still at rock fucking bottom isn’t he and he wants and he wants and he wants and he fucking--

 

\---

 

Gavin lies in bed after a long day at work and shuts his eyes, but he’s drunk so much coffee that he’s forgotten how to sleep.

He presses two fingers against his pulse and feels his hands shake and tries to think of the last time he’s fucking felt peace.

**Author's Note:**

> @david cage give me more gavin to work with damnit


End file.
